我洗碗时在厨房要了我

Chapter 104  Your Stutter

"Is your appearance to your liking, my lady?" Janette gently asked whilst stepping back to allow the quiet Ophelia to admire the work.

Ophelia barely glanced at the vanity before rising to her feet with a curt nod. She hadn't said anything the whole time because what was the point? Janette always did her job perfectly. There was nothing to compliment when it was the same expertise work.

"Oh, my lady, look there's Nyx!" Janette chirped when the black animal sauntered through the cracks of the door. She bent and lifted the energetic pet who immediately wagged his tail at the sight of them. Ophelia didn't even look in her dog's direction. She brushed past Janette and left without another word at Nyx. "Woof! Woof!" Nyx greeted with joy in his glistening eyes, his tiny pink tongue darting out. Anyone would've swooned at his dazzling black fur and adoring behavior. Ophelia treated him like he was nothing. Nyx's tail lowered when she ignored him. Immediately, he chased after her, barking incentive.

"Woof! Woof!"

Ophelia was growing agitated. She came to a curt stop, and stared at the thing, sending the pet tilting his head in confusion.

"Uhm…" Ophelia remained in her position, unsure of what to do.

Nyx was dejected. His shoulders dropped in defeat as he let out a tiny whimper. He plopped onto his feet, in an attempt to beg and appear cute, but Ophelia simply peered at the beast.

Then, without another word, Ophelia petted the dog on the head and left. Janette softly gasped to herself. What was going on? She watched as Ophelia stormed out of the room, her expression completely changed. The softness in her lady's smile was gone, the kindness that eluded from a simple gaze wasn't there.

Who exactly was that woman?

- - - - -

"Luna!"

Everywhere Ophelia went, there was someone to greet her with enthusiasm. They were eager and perked as if waiting for a smile or something. Their eyes lit up at her presence, resembling children looking up at their mother. She was unnerved and confused by their happiness to see her. What was there to grin at?

"Would you like us to escort you to the library, Luna?"

Ophelia hadn't had breakfast, yet they were quick to usher her away. She frowned to herself, her displeasure obvious. The soldiers glanced at each other, almost puzzled.

Ophelia shook her head like the headmistress of an academy would do. Then, she tucked her hands in front of her and elegantly sauntered down the castle, almost with a mission in mind. "Our Luna sure is different today."

"Hush, the Commander's in a sour mood. If he hears your comment, we'd be running laps in this scorching sun!"

Ophelia turned the corner in time to hear them bad mouth her. Was she that different? She didn't feel like it. She still hated herself in the mirror, she abhorred the purple eyes that stared back, and the abnormal silver hair. The more she walked down the corridor with its polished window, the longer she'd glance at herself in the mirror.

Maybe, one day, she could burn her ugly white hair off. That'd be a nice plan.

As Ophelia was lost in thought, she walked down the staircase absentmindedly, only to hear a commotion at the end of the grand walk.

"An execution? Are you serious?!" Beetle shouted in dismay, stalking toward his Alpha with a furious expression.

And just like that, Ophelia's heart fell to her stomach. She hurried and saw the chaos, Beetle being held back by multiple blank-faced knights. They must've been the heartless men that Killorn trained. Beetle was red-faced as if his entire world fell apart.

"What did she do wrong?" Beetle continued, his skin growing darker by the minute. "All she did was protect those women!"

"Is she your mate?" Killorn calmly fired back. "Why do you care so much about a human girl?"

Beetle gasped in disbelief. "And our Luna, is she not the same species?!"

"Does Ophelia know?"

Killorn paused. Now, that finally got a reaction out of him. He furiously turned around, his expression morphed into fury. Beetle sucked in a breath.

"Keep Ophelia out of this," Killorn snarled, his voice lowering in a warning.

"She was involved," Beetle demanded, his tone rising in shock. Killorn's face grew hard. "Ophelia is the victim." n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"My mate is the victim, Alpha!" Reagan stressed. "She's Reagan's smartest pupil, it'd be impossible for her to not know it was black magic. I know she was forced to do it, I—"

"Enough, Beetle." Killorn sternly shook his head. "Execution would be better than the punishments vampires have for black magic witches."

Beetle's nostrils flared. "Let's talk about this."

Killorn sharply narrowed his eyes. "We're doing that right now, aren't we?"

Beetle gritted his teeth, his gaze becoming venomous. Though, he found it strange that he hadn't felt the Wolf's Sovereignty clamping down on his neck to prevent him from rejecting his Alpha.

"There is nothing to talk about," Killorn finalized. "I've made my decision."

Beetle bowed his head in disbelief, squeezing his eyes shut. He softened his speech. "She is my mate, Killorn."

Killorn tensed.

"How could you be this cruel, Alpha?" Beetle muttered. "After all we've been through?"

Killorn opened his mouth and then sighed. He waved his hand, to free Beetle. Not like Beetle needed to be held back, Killorn could handle him in his sleep. Instead, Killorn rested a hand on his good friend's back.

"I'm going to tell you something, keep it a secret," Killorn muttered, leaning closer, but froze. Killorn finally caught a whiff of the most enticing smell in the world. His head snapped in her direction and he was knocked off of his feet.

Dressed in ruby red, Ophelia was a vision to behold. Killorn was reminded of the blooming rose in the garden, the prettiest and brightest one—the first flower to get plucked. There was nothing that could ever rival her soft glamor, except the color represented vampires.

"I'm not a victim," Ophelia stated.

These were the first words she had uttered that day. The first thing she said to him after their explosive fight on the balcony. Four words. Twelve letters. No stutter. Now wavering. Her tone was firm.

Ophelia didn't stammer without his reassurance. What was going on? She wasn't even gripping her fingers so tight that they turned pale like she usually did to hold back her stutter. Slowly, as a Duchess would, Ophelia gracefully descended the stairs. Her blood-colored dress swished under her feet, reminding Killorn of petals adorning grass. He wasn't the only one admiring her, even his highly-skilled soldiers stiffened at her enticing smell.

Day by day, Killorn was struggling to hide Ophelia.

"Luna!" Beetle muttered, realizing this was his ticket to helping Layla.

Ophelia turned to the playboy. She had never seen him this desperate and pathetic over something. Tilting her head at his exasperated expression, she touched her neck, wondering if this was what Layla meant that day.

Was that why Layla emphasized she'd be useful to Ophelia? All so Ophelia could save Layla? That hurt. Ophelia thought Layla had trusted her enough to save her without the need of a benefit. "What are you doing here?" Killorn demanded, his voice turning even more rough than when he spoke to Beetle. She had some nerves to waltz in here in a red gown after their argument yesterday!

"I picked out the dress myself, you like it?" Ophelia continued.

Beetle was stunned speechless. He blanched, wondering who this woman was in front of him. He opened his mouth, unable to know where to start.

"What did you just say?" Killorn spat out, taking a threatening step towards her.

Suddenly, Ophelia flinched back and bowed her head. Killorn was floored. He immediately stopped.

"Ophelia—"

"Tell her," Beetle demanded, seizing the disorientated Killorn. "Tell her that you're going to murder her friend!"

"It'll be you next!" Killorn barked over his shoulders, casting him a warning glare. Killorn stormed to his wife, grabbed her by the hips, and squeezed it so tight, she was forced to look into his stormy eyes. She met his fearsome gaze with an innocent and frightened one of her own. Then, his nails dug into her corset. Ophelia winced, for the metal linings were digging into her body. She slid her hands over his, hoping he'd spare her some mercy.

"It hurts," Ophelia stated.

Instantly, Killorn loosened. He returned his attention, his gaze snapping to the spot. He rubbed the area with his thumb, an almost apologetic expression on his face. Bending his head, he leaned in for a kiss in the hopes of soothing her. But she quickly turned her chin, her hand sliding up to his forearm.

"What the hell is this underneath the material?" Killorn muttered. "A corset," Ophelia whispered.

"Take it off. You don't need it."

"For my posture too."

"It's good as it is. I'm burning all of the corsets." Killorn couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must be for her. It was no wonder there were ribbons on her back every night. He was certain this kind of torture device was not good for her health.

"Every lady wears it," Ophelia mumbled.

"But you're not just any lady, Ophelia. You are Duchess Mavez," Killorn responded. "You set the trends in society. You are what every woman should strive to be, besides the Empress."

Ophelia's heart skipped. "We wouldn't want every lady to start stuttering now, do we?"

Killorn's lips curled. Was that the first joke she cracked? He glanced down to see her sheepish expression. He softly chuckled, kissed her on the cheek, and then dropped his hands.

Immediately, Ophelia's amiable expression dropped. And so did he. "Ophelia," Killorn suddenly said, his voice growing dark as night. "Where did your stutter go?"